


Their Favorite Pastime Is Being Dead

by ChrisDemarais



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - Minecraft, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:52:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisDemarais/pseuds/ChrisDemarais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death seemed impossible in the past, and by past you mean literally an hour and a half ago, when you were in your own blissful domain. You were invincible- all of you were invincible, on top of the world because the world belonged- belongs, it still belongs- to you, but the thought of that does not seem so sweet now.</p>
<p>     Your words are choked and weak and barely there as they pass your lips. The hands which are cradling his head are shaking; they do not feel like they belong to you. You tell him that this isn’t funny, to get up, and to stop playing games. He is motionless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their Favorite Pastime Is Being Dead

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by [this](http://feferi.deviantart.com/art/oh-gosh-oh-geez-389273852) picture. I have the permission of the artist to write this based on their picture.

     Existence is something you never contemplated because you never have to. You are just there, end of story. You are- or were- happy with the answer you provided yourself. Existing is something to do and not to question. Your purpose in this world still remains unseen, and now that you have the chance to think of it, you would rather not have one now that one of the few good things in your life has passed. You do not want a purpose; you just want your Michael back.

     Existence is a question in your mind which you are searching for the answer for now, with your dying- dead, he’s dead now- best friend in your arms. Your thoughts are a little too blurry to give yourself clear answers. Your head is fuzzy, and you feel as if something is restricting your lungs. The lack of oxygen may just be the fact that you are not breathing as you are waiting for Michael to breathe. Your hushed prayers go unanswered; his body is still.

     Death seemed impossible in the past, and by past you mean literally an hour and a half ago, when you were in your own blissful domain. You were invincible- all of you were invincible, on top of the world because the world belonged- belongs, it still belongs- to you, but the thought of that does not seem so sweet now.

     Your words are choked and weak and barely there as they pass your lips. The hands which are cradling his head are shaking; they do not feel like they belong to you. You tell him that this isn’t funny, to get up, and to stop playing games. He is motionless.

     The first sob you choke eases the pressure on your lungs; you breathe a little more easily now. The cry does not dull any of the pain you feel. Feeling is something you wish did not exist at the moment. Feeling is painful and hard and confusing; confusing because you no longer know where to go or what to do.

     Do you leave him? Do you take him with you? Where do you even go?

     You get the feeling that Geoff would know what to do, where to go after this; he just had it in his blood- that whole leadership role. Geoff is home sleeping and safe like a normal human being.

     The initial shock of Michael’s demise is gone along with the adrenaline. Your hormones are no longer shielding your emotions; you feel worse than you did when you got the perfect view of an arrow piercing his heart. Michael breathed his last breath a while ago, and you’ve been cradling his body for a long time. Being vulnerable is probably not the best idea since it is still night, and monsters are still roaming. You can’t leave him though… you can’t-

     The tears are pouring slowly. Some of the tears mix with Michael’s blood, and you think there’s something poetic (or horrific… or both) about that. 


End file.
